The sun had yet to rise and the room was still dark with the night, but he could still see the starkness of her skin and the incessant movement of her jaw. One day she would crack a tooth. He thought about waking her, but sighed the thought away. Maybe tonight would be the night that one of her teeth split down to the root.

He turned over again until his eyes landed on the door, made up of brass handles and stained oak. There wasn’t a stamp of him anywhere in the house – she had designed it all. The only aspects that were his were the receipts she left in her wake. The door might as well have had locks and bolts drawn across it. Amber hadn’t designed a home – she had built a prison.

He covered his ears with his hands and tried to return to sleep, but the sound gnawed through flesh and bone until his own teeth began to ache. He threw back the duvet and locked himself in the en-suite. After using the toilet, he slammed the lid down. If he couldn’t sleep, neither could she.

His reflection in the mirror was enough to make him wince. Yes, he had a toned physique and olive skin from his Mediterranean mother, with thick black hair that showed no signs of thinning, but in his eyes he looked like a completely different man. Amber was devouring him slowly from the inside out. It felt as though he hadn’t slept deeply in years; he woke with the slightest of Amber’s movements. It wouldn’t be long before he no longer recognised his own face in the mirror.

Richard took his shaving kit from the cupboard beneath the sink and fished his second phone out of the bag. He sat on the toilet and squeezed the phone between his thighs to muffle the sound as it turned on.

They were so close. A couple more weeks, and the whole ordeal would be over. No more secrets. No more lies. He would be able to fall asleep at night without fearing the person on the other side of the bed, and when the private investigator could prove that Amber was a danger to her child, he could take Samantha with him. If he wasn’t safe in the same house as his wife, neither was their daughter. But he feared that he would never be free from the guilt of hurting an innocent woman, even if it meant having James in his life. He had never felt that type of love before: he would do anything to have him, even if it meant he was plagued with dreams of Neena and the lies he had told to feed his own hunger for someone else.

No messages. He texted James and waited anxiously for a reply.

Are you awake?

I am now, James replied a minute later.

Sorry. Woke up and thought of you.

Come over.